


From Little Acorns

by Aoi_Shinkaze



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 3: Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, Book 4: Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Good Albus Dumbledore, Madam Pince - Freeform, Magically Powerful Harry Potter, Sane Voldemort (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:07:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27702532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aoi_Shinkaze/pseuds/Aoi_Shinkaze
Summary: Harry never felt as alive as he had in that moment, when he repelled dozens of Dementors from himself and Sirius. As powerful. What if he wanted to capture that feeling again, and hold onto it forever?
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 40





	1. Every Story Has a Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> This will be my first fic on AO3, and my first beta-d one, besides this first teaser. Please let me know how you like it. Updates will come soon as the semester winds down :)

Harry closed his eyes and took a deep, deep breath. This was it, this is what he had trained for for the past few months. Centering himself and softly exhaling, he finished stepping into the stadium. The ambient noise around him from the crowd screaming swelled to almost uncomfortable levels after being in the sound dampened preparation tunnel for a few minutes. 

He looked out into the stadium, his eyes steadily panning over the small judges table, nearly hidden behind an impressive set of wards and defensive enchantments, the empty field where he was to fight, and the packed stadium full of wizards and witches mostly booing and jeering at him, with a few supportive yells trying to be heard. He flicked his eyes up once, just to see if he could spot her, his biggest supporter, but alas. It was impossible to make out any one person in the screaming mass of humanity. It seemed as if the onlookers were protected by an even more impressive series of wards and enchantments, and for good reason.

After all, there wasn’t a magical being yet who Albus Dumbledore couldn’t lay waste to. Harry’s lips twitched before he located Bagman, nodding his head to indicate he was ready as he smoothly drew his wand from his belt, idly loosening up the tension in his body with a careless shoulder roll. 

It was time.

  
  
  



	2. And This is It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be posting chapters before my beta can pick through them, and I'll update as she gets back to me. It you notice any errors, please tell me! Also please let me know how you feel about the story so far :)

[End of Third Year]

Harry sat listlessly in the library, idly staring at a book on powerful protective spells. He had just saved Sirius, his unknown and unlooked for godfather, mere days before, with the strongest spell he had ever cast. Harry remembered the exhaustion that had clawed at him, the uncertainty, the blazing desire to _witness_ his father save him…all to culminate in the sudden realization that the Harry of the past had seen the Harry of the _future_ cast the Patronus charm, to save himself and Sirius. And he had done it. He had repelled who knew how many dozens of dementors, all with a single spell of staggering magnitude. He could only equate the spells’ power to one other person.

Albus Dumbledore, the Headmaster of Hogwarts.

The Headmaster had beaten back the full force of Dementors by himself at the Quidditch pitch when the foul creatures had invaded the match, and Harry had essentially equaled that feat. Just remembering that fact filled Harry with satisfaction.

He was so far removed from the Dursley’s control now. He had power of his _own_ , and that power was formidable indeed. That power didn’t stop the sharp pang of loss in Harry’s mind. He had never known someone to love him unconditionally, and yet Sirius seemed to do so, in those last, frantic moments, when Harry, Ron and Hermione thought they could clear Sirius’ name, and restore Harry into his godfather’s care.

And then the very hands of Fate itself seemed to snatch him from an ideal place of safety. Professor Lupin had transformed, and Wormtail had escaped in the confusion and scuffle. And now with no evidence of the miscarriage of justice, the Minister of Magic was free to do what he wished, which had been to order the immediate Kiss of death by a Dementor to be bestowed upon Sirius. Luckily, Hermione’s Time Turner had seen to the saving of all of them, as well as Buckbeak.

These dark thoughts had led Harry here, to the library, Hermione’s refuge. Hermione and Ron were outside, attempting to patch up their friendship from the whipsaws of anger that the two of them had run through their bond, with Hermione’s cat appearing to have eaten the at the time innocent Scabbers. Harry knew he would have to make his own amends for his anger at Hermione getting his Firebolt confiscated, especially since it turned out that the broom _did_ come from Sirius Black, even if the intention behind the gift was off.

But that was for later. Now, he had the burning desire to learn. To learn of powerful enchantments and spells that he could use to keep himself safe. If Trelawney’s Prophecy spoke true, Harry’s enemy would be getting a follower back shortly. Harry had to prepare, and quickly. Voldemort had decades of experience under his belt, and the power to match the Headmaster blow for blow, even if neither could kill the other. Harry had to come up with a way of matching or exceeding the power difference, if he wanted to survive the battles ahead.

And so, the library.


	3. Stirrings of Knowledge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Here we see the start of Harry’s deeper magical studies, and my copious usage of Google Translate for spell names :)

[Hogwarts Library, End of Harry’s Third Year]

Harry sighed. He had been searching for a way to infuse runes into his spells, since Hermione had seemed so enthused over that branch of magic. Borrowing her notes had let him quickly figure out the basics, but advanced uses of runes seemed to not be in any books he had searched thus far. Ron had finally managed to convince Hermione to relax and play chess, and last he had checked, his two best friends were locked in an intense series of successive matches. Trust Hermione to turn a pickup game of chess into an endeavor.

The book he had picked up was on Norse runes, and should have been intuitive to him according to Hermione, thanks to the ease with which he had picked up the Futhark runes from her notes, but the runes seemed to spend most of his study time by swimming on the page and making zero sense overall. He had wanted to use Norse runes thanks to the Nordic tendency of high-powered runic spell combinations, especially when one investigated Norse mythology. Imbuing a hammer with the power to call down lightning bolts was possibly one of the most common uses of high-end Nordic runic enchanting, but Harry wanted to explore the possibility of imbuing elemental spells with runic properties.

He had found an old book on his study table earlier, one that had pointed him in the direction of high end uses of rune-based enchantment, but Hermione could not possibly have left it there. He didn’t question it much, assuming it to be a quirk of the library. Perhaps it could help students with their studies? At any rate, he had to continue his studies, Nordic runes were his best bet, being new enough that he could read them without a translation book, but old enough that they had a significant amount of power behind every rune.

Runes built up power based on how often they were used, an interesting theory that he had found in the old rune book. It was the reason that runic alphabets crafted in the last few hundred years had very little power behind them, unless they were the creation of an incredibly powerful wizard or witch that made up for the lack of use with their own inherent magical strength. Runic languages held the most power, as did ancient magical languages, due to the pure strength lent to every letter or phrase over hundreds to thousands of years of use. Latin fell into an interesting hole. It was old enough that Latin words had power, but new enough that individual _letters_ had not gained significant strength. That led to many modern countries using Latin origin spells, even if they were translated into their everyday language.

Older civilizations however, had no need for the “Latin crutch”, so to speak. Their ancient languages were steeped in enough history and magical power that they had no need or desire to switch languages or use translations. An Indian mage had no use for _Incendio_ , they used _AgnibaN_. The sheer power that most ancient Indian, Chinese, Egyptian and Mesopotamian spells packed behind them were staggering. It was little wonder that Curse Breakers strong, brave and clever enough to venture into ancient Egyptian tombs were so sought after. Even after millennia, curses from the most ancient cultures still had weight and could kill an entire research team if not worked around _very_ carefully.

This fed into Harry’s desire for Nordic runes, young enough to learn quickly, old enough to pack some punch. Hopefully he would be able to figure them out quickly, he still had to master the _Aguamenti_ water conjuration spell as well as the _Glacius_ freezing spell in order to have some material to infuse the runes into.

* * *

She watched from behind a bookcase. The Potter boy had come yet again, without his friends, yet again. He seemed to be feverishly searching for information. Some of those tomes hadn’t been opened in decades, let alone years. Not since the last powerful and curious wizard to have walked the halls of Hogwarts.

She…did not exactly _like_ the Boy-Who-Lived. He was tolerable. He treated books with the respect they deserved, even if he didn’t quite treat his homework with the same. The boy wasn’t quietly studious, like the Ravenclaws, or hard working like the Hufflepuffs, but she would be lying if she said he didn’t apply himself to his studies. And yet, he had made friends with Hermione Granger, quite possibly the closest to her own heart in regards to books.

She had seen his studies focused on runic enchanting for the past few days and had slipped him a primer on higher end runic languages and enchantments, wanting to see how he assimilated the information. Pince could practically _see_ the boy’s frustration with his chosen runic alphabet. She sniffed primly. Nordic runes were always a little too _straightforward_ for her. The elegance of Arabic runes or the sheer deadly grace of Egyptian runes were more her style.

Perhaps the boy needed a nudge in a different direction. She resolved to leave a book on Egyptian runes on his study desk tomorrow and see how he progressed from there. And perhaps, a primer on higher elemental conjuration. She had seen his initial attempts to learn _Aguamenti_ , and they had been rather uninspired. If he was headed in the direction she thought, that of infusing runic effects into elemental conjurations, he would need a significant amount of help. Third year texts simply wouldn’t cover knowledge that esoteric. Nor would Seventh year texts, for that matter. Luckily, the Hogwarts library had tomes for more than just the basic magical educations, and covered many texts suited for wizards and witches starting their Apprenticeships.

* * *

Harry rubbed his forehead. Hermione and Ron were now locked in a protracted struggle in the common room involving chess, and his own studies seemed to be locked up as well. Nordic runes were impossible to decipher, even with modern translations. They just didn’t _click_ for him.

He was starting to think that the Library was sentient, since it seemed to know exactly what he was having problems with and how to help, since he had walked in that morning to see two thin but ancient handbooks. One that gave a variety of exercises on how to improve and strengthen his elemental casting, which would make his water and freezing spells far more effective. The second was a guide on ancient Egyptian runes. They were not completely separated from hieroglyphics but had a magic of their own.

Thanks to the inexhaustible efforts of modern Curse Breakers, the majority of ancient Egyptian runes were known and could be utilized, even if students had to build in numerous safeguards and ways to leech power off of the rune effects, thanks to the absurd amount of power contained in even a simple phrase such as “conjure water”.

For example, a basic Nordic cluster that existed to conjure water would often create either a low powered blast or a small stream of water. Depending on how it was tuned by secondary clusters and phrases, you could put the runic structure on a metal tube and create a serviceable but inefficient shower. Or turn it into a low powered water jet to use as a gardening tool.

The same basic cluster written in ancient Egyptian, however, would do nothing less than emit a highly attenuated _cascade_ of water, thin enough to cut through rock or thick enough to bowl over a fully grown wizard. The cluster would have to have numerous secondary clusters built in to regulate the flow of water but would be ultimately useful for nothing less than an industrial level water cutter or cleaner.

This information was incredibly helpful, and he barely needed to consult a translation book, the Egyptian runes and their meanings seemed to practically jump into his brain. His main worry had been augmenting his attacks with a quickly drawn rune, and it seemed that ancient Egyptian runes were almost uniquely suited for exactly that. A traced strength rune would imbue the next spell with almost triple the force as he could regularly output, and he was learning that many Curse Breakers or Runic Enchanters used a secondary focus such as a metal or stone rod to trace their runes, allowing for them to let loose a constant barrage of spells while continuously strengthening or otherwise modifying them with runes.

Harry had also spent a significant amount of time studying anything he could on how Voldemort had fought before his downfall, and the majority of it seemed to have been Dark magic cast with frightening amounts of power, or just straight up Unforgiveable curses. The only times he had relied on anything other than curses had been whenever Voldemort had faced up with the Headmaster. Then the duels they conducted seemed to take a level in power in skill. Battle Transfiguration was the Headmaster’s forte, and Voldemort seemed to have his niche in Dark curses and fire conjuration, as well as serpents worked into a large quantity of his spells.

Neither of the two seemed to use runes in their spells, but Harry figured that perhaps Dumbledore didn’t have any _need_ to augment his spells, since they were cast with a terrifying power of their own, especially on top of his Battle Transfiguration. And Voldemort appeared to prefer brute force spells, and had enough inherent power to back up the destructive curses he favored.

Several Dark elemental curses seemed of interest to Harry, but their initial or set up costs were either too high, or they enacted a terrible toll on the mental health, physical health, or magic of the caster. Fiendfyre, possibly the most famous Dark elemental curse, was nearly always fatal to the caster, unless they held enough willpower to vanquish the living flames, and the only way to know if you had that willpower was to cast it. And there was no such thing as casting a _little_ bit of Fiendfyre for practice, since it would feed itself on the magic of the caster even if there was no other magic around for it to feed on otherwise. _Tenebris caligo_ was the Dark freezing spell, and it enacted a toll of permanently shaving one day off of the caster’s life for every _attempt_ of the spell. So even practicing the spell was harmful to the life of the caster.

Harry figured it would be simpler to rely on the existing normal elemental spells, instead of heading down the path of harmful to cast magic. At least magical exhaustion from over casting spells was preferable to chopping days off of his lifespan. And using runes to augment the power of his spells would neatly make up for his immature magical strength and lower amount of magic in comparison to Voldemort and his Death Eaters.


	4. First Task Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of action in this one, please let me know how you feel about the switching perspectives. I’m trying to get through a lot of content before we get back to the main show, this chapter really ran away from me. I’d not originally planned on fleshing out the other 3 Champions, but here we are!

[Fourth Year, Just before the First Task]

Harry rolled out of bed, feeling refreshed from a full night’s rest. He hadn’t practiced his spells at all for a full day to keep from exhausting himself. He needed all his magical power today for the First Task. Thanks to Hagrid’s timely intervention two weeks ago, he had been able to find out that the First Task of the Triwizard Tournament was to fight dragons. Harry’s skill with _Aguamenti_ would be more than up to the task, pun fully intended, of keeping him safe from the dragon’s fire.

A wall of water two meters thick would dampen the effects of any fire, no matter how potent.

He made his way down to the Great Hall, snagging some toast and pumpkin juice, quickly scoffing both before heading down to the Quidditch pitch and the tent set outside it for the Champions. He saw the older three champions duck into the tent just ahead of him, their longer legs preventing him from catching up.

* * *

Harry pushed past the tent flap, seeing four benches in a square, with a table set in the middle. He took the bench nearest to the entrance, seeing it left empty by the other champions. Harry tried to catch Cedric’s eye from across the tent, but the older Hogwarts student was staring right at the edge of the table, frantically muttering to himself. Harry shared a brief nod with Krum, the Durmstrang student seemed surly as usual, but had a quiet air of confidence around him. Fleur, the only female champion, had her eyes shut as she swayed lighting from side to side, softly humming to herself.

Harry took a deep breath, sinking into a light meditative trance as he waited for Ludo Bagman to show up with directions. Dragons…surely the judges wouldn’t expect them to kill a dragon? Instead maybe there would be some objective, and they would have to fight past the creatures? 

The four champions looked up in sync as the tent entrance flapped open, with Ludo Bagman striding in, holding a small bag.

“Well well, it seems you’ve all gathered in time for the start of the First Task! Splendid, absolutely splendid!” Bagman seemed hardly able to contain his excitement; the man was practically bouncing on the tip of his toes. Harry could hear the dull roar of the audience from afar as the stadium filled up, the faint edge of nerves hitting him now.

Bagman seemed to master himself as he cleared his throat. “Unfortunately, we’ve heard some rumors of _cheating_ amongst the champions. Somehow, word has leaked on what exactly you were to be facing today! Now, we’ll set aside how such a leak occurred and instead focus on how the First Task will be changing to accommodate the necessary amount of difficulty needing to be upheld.”

Harry frowned. What on earth could they do to change the task at this juncture, merely an hour before it started? He noticed similar looks of apprehension on his fellow champions’ faces.

“Due to the short notice of the cheating, we had to quickly procure replacements for you to fight against. Originally, we were going to have you attempt to acquire a golden egg from the dragon you were facing. Thanks to the changes, you now just have to survive against your foe for at least a minute. The longer you survive, the more points you earn. If you cross the two-minute mark you will earn the clue for the Second Task. One of you will be lucky enough to still be fighting a dragon, but the task will of course be much harder.” Bagman’s grim words weighed on the four teens heavily.

“Now then.” Bagman set the bag down in the center of the table. “Draw from the bag. The monster drawn will indicate what you are fighting, and the number on the attached medal will indicate the order that you will be fighting in.”

Fleur reached into the bag first, pulling out a small disc with an Acromantula drawn on it with the number 3. Seeing her disgusted look, Bagman chuckled before explaining that a single Acromantula wouldn’t provide enough of a challenge, even fully grown, so she would have to contend with a small herd. The man flatly refused to expound on just how many a “small herd” of Acromantulas would contain.

Passing the bag clockwise, Cedric next reached into the bag, pulling out a Hungarian Horntail with the number 1 on it. He breathed an audible sigh of relief and sheepishly flashed a look of apology at Harry as he passed the bag to Krum. The older Seeker reached into the bag and pulled out a Chimera with the number 2, looking thoroughly unhappy as he passed the bag to Harry. Harry grimaced as he reached in, knowing he’d be fourth to go already, pulling a Quintaped out of the bag, paling rapidly.

Harry rapidly re-evaluated his strategies as he sat on his bench. He had planned on conjuring a dome of water two meters thick before transfiguring it to solid diamond as a shield against a dragon. Against a Quintaped, one of the most vicious magical creatures on the planet, far beyond the threat of a dragon, Harry would have to conserve his magical power as much as possible.

He mentally thanked Hermione for convincing him to study and master the Cushioning charm.

Bagman paused at the exit to the tent, before turning around and staring back at the four teens, delivering an absentminded, if stern announcement. “Oh, and one last thing. Once I leave, you won’t be able to hear anything out of the tent. Once you leave you also will not be able to return.” Bagman then turned back and left the tent, leaving the four champions to their thoughts.

* * *

[Judge’s Table]

Albus looked out onto the empty field, a stark contrast to the stands, which were stuffed nearly to bursting with spectators. Tickets for each of the tasks had sold out within days of the four champions’ names being announced.

One side of the stadium had a massive tunnel leading to it, through which the dragons were originally planned to be towed through. The other side had a much smaller tunnel, for the champions.

Ludo Bagman’s voice boomed out, urging the first champion to enter the arena. Albus smiled slightly as Cedric Diggory appeared, the young man calmly jogging out onto the field, stopping a few feet from the mouth of the tunnel.

Albus gradually stopped smiling as Ludo explained the rules to the Hogwarts Champion. Young Mr. Diggory would have 5 minutes to prepare for his foe, and he could use any spells as lethal as possible, besides the understandable caveat of the Unforgivables, with no legal repercussions. The teen nodded, his stance noticeably firming up, his wand casting the instant Ludo allowed him to.

The boy was talented. That was a simple fact. He must have gone digging through several more…obscure books, to enchant the small lake of water as he was doing so presently. Albus leaned forward in interest. Was that? Ahh, yes it was. It had been many years since he had last seen a young wizard with an elemental aptitude. His eyes sparkled as his fellow judges’ mouths opened in surprise. Mr. Diggory was clearly enchanting Living Water, imbuing the water with enough _will_ to carry out tasks given to it, yet not enough that it could turn on the caster.

The aging wizard leaned back in his chair, letting out a delighted chuckle. If the rest of the champions expressed even an inkling of elemental magic, Albus might just eat his hat.

The young man continued, saving the bulk of his time for the Living Water, a necessary precaution, going on to transfigure several small boulders into wolves, which he left un-animated. As Ludo told Cedric to cease his preparations, the Hungarian Horntail was portkeyed into the stadium and set loose. The young man snapped out his wand, a stream of Living Wind issuing from it, hastily binding the dragon’s mouth shut, a billowing cloud of flame issuing from between its’ clenched jaws, thankfully far away from Mr. Diggory. His Living Water leapt up, binding the dragon’s notorious tail while the wolves were hastily animated, leaving them to snap and howl at the dragon’s haunches, thoroughly distracting it from the very alive and breakable wizard.

And then Albus nodded as Cedric did his best impression of a shadow, hiding from the dragon’s increasingly incensed view as his wolves and Water did the bulk of the work harrying it for the required allotted time for him to get his clue.

Albus clapped as Ludo called for an end to the match, chuckling as the dragon keepers tried to puzzle out how to undo the Living Water before Cedric undid it for them. Most wizards simply didn’t have the power needed to negate something like that.

* * *

[Cedric]

He panted a bit. Quidditch hadn’t really prepared him for this. Hiding behind rocks while dodging occasional blasts of fire from an enraged dragon while keeping a pack of stone wolves up was not what he had expected to do during the Tournament. He was glad that he had had read up on elemental spells and started to work on them recreationally last year, as a sort of after school project, or he would have never had the time needed to work on it in the week since he’d been tipped off by Hagrid.

Luckily both Living Wind and Living Water spells had worked out, though he had cheated a bit and not gone for enchanting Living Air, as he had felt he wouldn’t have been given enough time. The stone wolves were what he had originally planned but given that he needed to stay alive and uncooked, figured that the elemental spells needed to come out. It had tipped his hand a bit early, since Cedric had planned to keep the elemental spells under wraps for a possible duel segment, but there was nothing for it now. Not to mention that he got possibly the second easiest of the magical creatures, so Harry and Krum for sure would have to showcase higher amounts of magic to stay alive in their respective challenges.

* * *

[Judges’ Table]

Albus smiled, quite happy with how the first champion’s foe had been dealt with. Now it was time for scores, and he quite happily sent up a ten. Olympe sent up an understandable nine, the young wizard hadn’t done much direct spell casting, relying mostly on his prepared wolves and Living Water. Igor gave an eight, and Albus could see how much it pained the man to not score lower, but with the level of spellcasting displayed, grading any lower would allow for rescoring calls to be made. Bartemius gave the young lad an eight, and Ludo gave him an eight as well. Perhaps it was a bit small of him, but Albus didn’t quite think either of the two Ministry workers understood just how impressive the elemental magic really was.

With a quite solid 43 points, Cedric made to move off to the Mediwitch’s tent, but Albus beckoned him forward.

“You didn’t think you’d run off without your clue, my boy?” Albus chuckled as he leaned in close, weaving a bubble of silence around himself and Mr. Diggory. “Your clue for the next task is… ‘Try’.” Trying to not show his complete befuddlement, Cedric moved off into the Healer’s tent, and Ludo called for the next champion, Mr. Krum to come to the arena.

* * *

[Viktor]

He tried his best not to shake as he entered the arena. Viktor was no stranger to coming out into an arena packed with screaming people, but he would be lying if he said he wasn’t nervous. He might be one of the world’s best Quidditch players, but he was certainly not one of the world’s best Class 5 magical creature killers.

That hinged on being allowed a certain spell, of course.

The overly pompous announcer (he’d seen quite a few of those, bags of wind with no substance to them) informed him that were essentially no limits on the magic he could cast. They made a note of the Unforgivables, and if he weren’t so inured to classic British idiocy at this point he would have rolled his eyes. Of _course_ he wasn’t about to use any of the Unforgivables. Setting aside the fact that a solid two out of three of them wouldn’t affect a Chimera, and he still wouldn’t fancy a life sentence.

5 minutes to prepare, and full license to use the only spell he needed for this encounter. Viktor knew he wouldn’t hit the two-minute mark for survival but going up against a Chimera meant that he really needed to take it down hard and fast. His eyes briefly flickered over to the Judge’s Table as he thought that really only someone like Albus Dumbledore could win in a battle of attrition with a Chimera.

Viktor took a deep breath as he sunk into a ready stance, almost as if he was about to start boxing instead. He loosened the muscles in his shoulders, as they tensed, and took a series of deep, slow breaths to center himself fully. He cast a lift muffling charm on his ears, to dampen the noise of the crowd, but not enough to block out all sound. If the Chimera dodged his spell or he had to wrestle it under control, he didn’t want to be distracted or unaware.

* * *

[Judges’ Table]

The air was starting to gain a slightly hazy look around young Mr. Krum. The almost oily nature of the air, visible even all the way over to the judges’ table, instantly clued Albus into the nature of spell that the young man was preparing to cast.

It had to be one of the series of escalating Hell Fire spells that culminated in Fiendfyre. If he judged the power of the spell correctly, it would be near the top of the list, either Hellfyre or Fiendfyre itself. Despite what many would say to the Dark nature of such a spell, Albus could think of very few ways to achieve victory versus a Chimera without losing one’s life, and even fewer with the limited magic that a young man operated with in comparison to himself.

Fiendfyre (and Hellfyre, for that matter) neatly sidestepped the issues of containment _and_ magical power. Its intrinsic property of eating magic would essentially allow it to home in on the incredibly magical Chimera. No, young Viktor wouldn’t be having any difficulty casting the spell, as he obviously possessed sufficient magical power to even think of it, but the real difficulty stemmed from controlling the spell itself. Left unchecked, it would destroy not only the Chimera, but young Mr. Krum as well, and most likely much of the stadium and spectators before Albus would have a chance to contain or extinguish it.

As the seconds to the start of Mr. Krum’s challenge ticked down, a faintly perceptible hum of magic began rippling around the Hogwarts Headmaster. His fellow headmaster and headmistress looked over at him with faint respect, while the two Ministry workers just looked around a bit fearfully. Albus’ eyes flashed as the magic around him built up, the air visibly warping as he brought his full power to readiness.

If he had to contain an out of control Hell Fire spell, he really wanted to be ready for it.


	5. First Task Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Here we tie up the First Task :) Please excuse my crappy google translate skills, but I felt that the champions would cast taxing magic in their own languages. If anyone speaks Bulgarian or French and would like to let me know how the spells would be properly translated, please feel free to tell me! :)   
> Also sorry for the delay, Fleur’s part took forever to properly tie up!

[Viktor]

He tensed, the buildup of magic around his form now visible to any that cared to look in his direction. His wand was vibrating gently, it had been quite some time since he had last had reason to cast this spell. He nodded as the announcer called out to him, informing him that the preparatory time was up.

A flash of light, and a Chimera appeared, both lion’s head and snake’s tail roaring even as it materialized, Viktor’s wand completing its sharp cutting motion as it landed.

“ _ADSKI OGŬN!_ ” Viktor bellowed out into the near pin drop silence of the stadium as the audience reacted with pure shock to both the Chimera and his spell choice. A thread of flame issued from the tip of his wand, growing alarmingly in size, turning into a vast serpent of dark red fire that roared towards the now much less confident Chimera.

He barely noticed falling to his knees as the Hellfyre spell engulfed the magical beast, the infernal flames still issuing from his wand by an almost imperceptible wisp. He could hear naught but the magical roar of the Hellfyre and the choked screams of the Chimera as it burned, its’ magically resistant hide not quite capable to the task of standing up to one of the deadliest spells on the planet.

He coughed, feeling the resistance from the Chimera disappear as it was finally consumed, reaching into the semi sentient mind of the Hellfyre and _willing_ it to disappear. The fire seemed to nearly growl at him, rushing at him with jaws bared, stopping merely two meters from him before he managed to halt it.

Viktor had never sweat that hard in his life, with the purely malevolent eyes of the gigantic snake made out of hell flames staring him down, shrinking ever so slowly in size as he willed it to cease existing. The young man let out a stuttering gasp as the demonic flames disappeared, nearly screaming in shock as a bucket of icy cold water dumped itself over his head, sputtering as he took in the sight of a fully powered up Albus Dumbledore before him.

* * *

[Judge’s Table]

It had been two decades since the last time Albus had seen fully controlled Hell Fire of any kind. The young man sweating and dripping with water in front of him would be one to watch out for. Not out of any sense of fear, but that sheer level of trust in his own mental fortitude to reign in the second strongest Hell Fire spell was truly commendable.

Albus smiled a terrifying smile as he reached down, grabbing the young man by the shoulder and hoisting him to his feet in one smooth motion. He gestured around him, the two were standing on a path of solid stone, a molten mess of rock visible for meters in every direction from the path the Hellfyre spell took from Viktor’s wand.

“Congratulations, Mr. Krum. I haven’t seen such an impressive show of control over _that_ particular branch of Fire magic in well over twenty years. I admire your mental strength. Now, if you can stand, and aren’t feeling too exhausted just yet, I’ll walk you over to get your scores.”

The young man blinked back at Albus, still a little too stunned following his incredible show of magical power and will, and blindly reached out his hand. Albus took it strongly, clasping the teen’s hand in his own as he waved his wand, weaving a bubble of purified air and strands of water around them, then floated the entire assemblage over to the Judge’s Table. Albus nodded at his fellow judges, and they started to send up their scores as he settled the bubble down.

Olympe sent up the much expected seven, her face showing her adamant disapproval. Igor surprised him not one jot as he sent up a ten, the two Ministry workers following up with a healthy nine from Crouch and a six from Ludo, who seemed to nearly quake in fear the second he took in young Mr. Krum’s form. Albus sent up his own ten as the young man gradually backed away from the edge of panic and into his normal self.

Albus figured that facing down a ten-meter-long snake made up of the strongest flames in existence would do that to any reasonable person.

He watched as Igor leaned in to tell young Mr. Krum his clue of “not” before sending him off to the Mediwitch’s tent. As young Mr. Krum stumbled off to be fussed over, Ludo called for the Beauxbatons’ champion to join them in the stadium.

* * *

[Fleur]

As she stepped into the empty field, Fleur had to ask herself yet again why she decided to volunteer herself for this madness. Eternal fame and glory seemed like a bright idea when she was all safe and warm in Beauxbatons or in the carriage, but in the chilly halls of Hogwarts and in this stadium, she reflected that perhaps…this wasn’t the best idea.

Not only that, but her prepared tactic of enchanting a dragon to sleep wouldn’t quite work on a “herd” of Acromantulas, she wasn’t even quite sure they would be able to hear her, since she wove her enchanted sleep through her voice. Instead, it would be back to basics. A pity she never read up on the Spider Repelling spell, it would be quite nifty. Ah well, nothing a bit of _feu_ wouldn’t solve, after all.

* * *

[Judge’s Table]

As the young Ms. Delacour strode onto the field, Albus reflected on the surprises dealt to them thus far. He was privately glad he hadn’t verbalized his joke of eating his own hat, not only would it be a crime against fashion! but, oh his fellow headmasters would hold him to it! The two champions that had dealt with the First Task already had put on quite a show, Living Wind, Living Water and fully controlled Hellfyre! Quite astonishing for their ages. He hadn’t done much more than dabble in Living Elements until he was much older than these children.

* * *

[Fleur]

She scoffed as the bumbling, puffed up announcer told her that she’d have five minutes to prepare in just about the loudest way possible. She was French, not an alien. She understood English perfectly well, thanks.

And really the only prep work she needed for this was to enchant the air, which she could do in her sleep at this point. One built-up Zephyr-class wind curse and an Ares-class Firestorm spell and well…the spiders wouldn’t need eight eyes to see it coming.

She felt a vague sense of an endless rage and bottomless insanity burning at the edge of her consciousness, and she knew that the Greek God of War was fully tuned in. The Ancient Greek mythological curses and spells escalated based off of the rough hierarchy of power in the pantheon, but the Deity-class spells took more than mere magical power to cast, even though they required plenty of _that_ as well.

Deity-class spells required having a strong sense of self and purpose, since every time they were cast, the remnants of the God they were based off of… _brushed_ their minds against the caster’s, giving them a good dose of the wells of insanity and rage that had enveloped the Greek pantheon after the fall of Ancient Greece.

As if that wasn’t enough, the caster also had to convince that remnant that the reason behind their usage of the curse was justified, entirely personalized based on the God or Goddess in question. The justification used on an Artemis-class curse would not be the same used for a Demeter-class charm.

If you didn’t convince the shard of your cause, they would simply turn the curse back on you, ten-fold. More than one person had been driven completely, utterly, soul wrenching mad by attempting to cast a Dionysus-class torture curse, only to have the God turn the curse back on them for being misguided.

So she fed the shard the information it wanted, that she was about to fight for her life against a horde of elephant sized spiders, and that she needed nothing less than the full burning wrath of the God of War to take them out.

Fleur felt the rage mellow out for lack of a better term, before she felt a sense of agreement, her wand nearly thrumming with power as the God allowed her to cast the spell.

As the poor, poor Acromantulas were portkeyed in, they were greeted by the sight of an all-encompassing torrent of pitch-black fire, fanned to even greater heights by the French witch’s Zephyr-class wind spell. Where the stadium floor hadn’t melted following Viktor’s Hellfyre spell, it now turned into nearly molten rock following the sheer heat carried by the Ares-class Firestorm spell. Fleur allowed a smug smile to appear on her face as the cackling madness retreated from her mind, the molten pool shimmering with heat, a testament to the power of her spell.

* * *

[Judge’s Table]

Luckily for Albus, none of his fellow judges witnessed the small bead of sweat that crept down his nose before he managed to wandlessly banish it. It wouldn’t do to appear like he could still be affected by the heat like the others, after all. People liked their heroes to be above such petty concerns such as “oh dear, that fire is too hot for me to stand next to”.

Eyeing the young French witch’s smugly satisfied smile, Albus turned to Olympe and raised a single eyebrow, making her flush deeply.

“Greek God spells, Olympe? I thought France knew better after the 1548 Daytime Disaster.”

He chuckled darkly as she sputtered some vague nonsense of self-study. Of course it was self-study! As if the spells hadn’t been locked down with old magic so that they could only pass from Mentor or Master to Apprentice!

But no matter, young Ms. Delacour collected her hint of “to”, which made her crinkle her nose in befuddlement; and her scores of ten, eight, ten, six and six, from her own Headmistress, Karkaroff, Albus himself, Bagman and Crouch respectively.

As the young lady marched off the field, Albus sat back into his well cushioned chair, wondering what young Harry would bring to the table in skill.


	6. Harry's Task

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Finally, it’s time for Harry’s task that he’s been training so much for!  
> I’ve somewhat shamelessly stolen “spells” from the Kane Chronicles by Rick Riordan (which I also do not own) for Harry’s Egyptian magic.

* * *

[Judge’s Table]

He had suspected it before, but now he had confirmation. None of his fellow judges are as connected to magic to the same degree as himself, and the young man clear across the stadium? Shares a _oneness_ with his magic beyond Albus’ own, mirroring Gellert’s himself. The very air _heaves_ with the force of young Harry’s magic, the immediate space around the teen warping far beyond what his fellow competitors were capable of. The effects of such magic reach beyond Harry, such is the force of his power and will. Even to the Judge’s Table, Albus can practically taste the electric hum of the teen’s magic, infused as it is with a fierce, almost headstrong, sense of defense and a raw undercurrent of downright vicious attack.

The last time Albus had faced down such magic was during the Great War, when ten of Gellert’s strongest lieutenants faced him down, determined to halt his advance or die trying. Had his brother and Albus’ own friends and lieutenants not accompanied him; they very well may have succeeded in their aim of weakening him to the point of being irrelevant threat wise to Gellert.

Harry’s magic reached a crescendo in power as the boy girded himself in a series of defenses, wand flickering back and forth, each as thorough as the last. A general Impervious charm, a lightly cast Levitation charm, a sphere of water two meters thick, a seamless Switching spell to safely ensconce Harry within the sphere, a Cushioning charm built into the sides of the sphere in which Harry floated. Albus felt his eyebrows rise in astonishment as Harry then reached into his robes to pull forth what was very clearly a Runic Enhancement Rod, crafted out of either sapphire or lapis lazuli thanks to its glimmering blue shade.

The boy wasted no time in carving Egyptian runes into the water with the Rod, confirming that it was made of lapis lazuli. Upon finishing an admittedly large set of runes, most beyond Albus’ understanding as he primarily focused on Nordic and Sumerian runes, Harry then crystallized the water into quartz with a single wordless wave, setting the crowd to muttering in a dull roar.

As a bead of sweat trailed down young Harry’s face, the magic surging around the young teen reached a crescendo, crackling visibly as Harry’s eyes took on an unnatural sheen of magic, his mouth snarling as he wordlessly carved a phrase into the ice around him.

And then the Quintaped took to the field.

* * *

[Harry]

He breathed hard, air entering his lungs with a stuttering gasp. The last few minutes had been…hectic.

He’d woven a complex net of enchantments and spells around him, encased himself inside a sphere of water, carved yet more enchantments into it with his Runic Rod, and then finally crystallized it into pure quartz. Every protective enchantment he could think of was woven into his defense. Bagman had said to survive for 2 minutes for max points, but against the second most deadly magical creature on the planet (only beaten by Nundus by the fact that Quintapeds were on their own island and no one voluntarily went there, whereas Nundus were free to wander into populated areas and cause untold devastation with their breath and sheer deadly force) Harry had to go all in on defense as well as offense.

As the Quintaped slammed into the ground with a roar merely a few dozen meters away, portkeyed into the stadium, Harry’s hands blurred. With his wand he ripped five boulders from the ground around him, shattered them into long spars of stone, and banished them at the Quintaped with all the speed he could muster. With his rod he multiplied the banishing force, tripling their speed, making them go from dangerous to flashes of grey matter, speeding towards the Quintaped.

It dodged every shard.

Gritting his teeth Harry tore at the molten ground ahead of him, forming a net made out of lava before tossing it at the Quintaped, not even waiting to see what it would do as he conjured lances made of sparkling ice, hurling them with rune enhanced speed at the beast.

The Quintaped jumped, clearing the net as it flew under him, then swiveling to face Harry, it ran straight at him, five legs flashing in a wholly unnatural way as it smashed straight through the spears of ice.

Harry slashed his wand sharply, the tip sparking as a truly gigantic bolt of lightning crashed into the Quintaped, its’ body thrown back from the sheer force, the audience screaming at the sudden flash of light and sound. Baring his teeth in a savage grin, Harry focused, his eyes flashing as he called on all the lightning that he could, all at once.

The Quidditch stadium shook. A column of lightning burst down from the clear sky from no cloud at all, smashing the Quintaped into the floor, _drilling_ it into the ground, leaving a smoking crater where it had landed.

* * *

[Judge’s Table]

Albus eyed Harry warily. His experienced eyes could pick out exactly how tired Harry had become, the teen was breathing hard, his wand and runic rod shaking from the strain of focusing so much magic in such a short amount of time. He would need a fair amount of rest to recover from this, but he could tell from the magic still roiling about the young lad that Harry hadn’t spent all of his magic just yet. A quiver out of the corner of his eye, and with a sinking feeling of understanding, Albus realized why Harry hadn’t dropped his guard.

That bolt of lightning had been _inspired_ , pure elemental magic was often enough to stop the hardiest of magical beasts in their tracks with the most commonly used being fire or water, but lightning, air and earth played their roles just as well to the well-researched hunter. And yet, as the smoking form of the Quintaped slowly emerged from the crater it had been smashed into, Albus frowned as he wondered how quickly the beast had recovered from the attack, and how little the lightning had seemed to have phased it.

* * *

[Harry]

Closing his eyes, Harry cursed under his breath. The Quintaped had not only survived, but it looked almost spotless, seemingly hardly injured even after being hit with one of Harry’s most powerful attacks. Rolling his neck to wring out the stress, Harry spun his wand and rod briefly, shaking out any nervous tension. He had attacked, and the Quintaped had survived. Time to take things up a notch.

He restarted his previous Transfiguration but on a wider scale, transforming the pulverized boulders and rocks around the stadium into countless spears and needles, launching them with vicious speed from every direction at the Quintaped, startling it back into its’ previous dance of avoidance. Harry’s eyes narrowed as he caught on to how the Quintaped was moving slower than before, a few of the smaller needles and arrows managing to stab into its legs.

So he _had_ injured it. Time to take advantage.


End file.
